


The Wild, Wild West

by greenieboy



Series: Holo-dates [3]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Addams Family Levels of Violence, Durango, F/F, Holodecks/Holosuites, Wild West, it's a wild west date, it's not super graphic but be warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26298463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenieboy/pseuds/greenieboy
Summary: "As they quiet down, Deanna hears the soft click of spurs on the floor as a shadow overtakes the table suddenly. The men begin to murmur nervously while Deanna tries not to smile, turning to see the visage of the flame-haired sheriff before her.“Leaving so soon?” Asks Sheriff Howard, flicking her hat out of her eyesight.Deanna grins cheekily, shrugging her shoulders. “Yes ma’am, sheriff,” she says, tilting her head back. “I’ll be out of your lovely hair for the next few weeks. I’m sure you’ll be missin’ the hell outta me while I’m gone. But don’t you worry… I’ll be back.” The sheriff rolls her eyes as Deanna chuckles."Our gals have a Wild West themed holo-date!
Relationships: Beverly Crusher/Deanna Troi
Series: Holo-dates [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859728
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	The Wild, Wild West

**Author's Note:**

> hello, this is inspired by one of pien-art's sketches bc they're always inspiring me. no beta, but i think it's okay ?? probably. sorry for mistakes

“Durango’s bluffin’ again.”

“I’ll bet your cards’re weaker than a New York whiskey.”

Deanna throws her hand down, smirking victoriously. “Sorry to disappoint boys,” she declares, tipping her hat up. She places a cigarette between her lips and flicks a match to light it, exhaling a proud ring. She glances at her cards, a lovely pair of aces complimenting the one on the table dealt by the house. The men sitting around the poker table groan, tossing down their hands (which obviously don’t compare). “Haven’t y’all learned not to underestimate me yet?” She asks cutely, taking a drag from her cig while reaching over the table to collect the money won from the round. Dully, she thinks this victory would be much more enjoyable if she were playing against the senior officers, able to sense and bask in their loss and overdramatic misery (in Will’s case), and not holocharacters, but winning still feels enjoyable. She counts her cash, grinning and blowing out smoke.

“What’ll it be, Durango?” Asks Marty Upshaw, the dealer. “One more round before you head out?”

Deanna clicks her tongue, gritting her teeth. “Sorry fellas. I’d better get going,” she says, pocketing the money. “Y’all can hold me to another round when I’m back, okay?” She bows her head, rising from her chair and stubbing out her cigarette as the men mutter their goodbyes. As they quiet down, Deanna hears the soft click of spurs on the floor as a shadow overtakes the table suddenly. The men begin to murmur nervously while Deanna tries not to smile, turning to see the visage of the flame-haired sheriff before her.

“Leaving so soon?” Asks Sheriff Howard, flicking her hat out of her eyesight.

Deanna grins cheekily, shrugging her shoulders. “Yes ma’am, sheriff,” she says, tilting her head back. “I’ll be out of your lovely hair for the next few weeks. I’m sure you’ll be missin’ the hell outta me while I’m gone. But don’t you worry… I’ll be back.” The sheriff rolls her eyes as Deanna chuckles.

“Keep dreaming, Durango,” quips Sheriff Howard, crossing her arms over her chest. She glances at the table, sighing. “I’m sorry I got here so late. I’d hoped to catch you in time for one more round.”

Deanna purses her lips, rocking on her feet. “I’ve always got time for another round if it involves you, sheriff,” she whispers suggestively, winking, and if it weren’t for her empathic abilities, she might say the red-headed sheriff seems totally unaffected by the comment. Sheriff Howard’s emotions, however, tell a much different story.

“You better watch that mouth of yours, honey,” says the sheriff, eyes narrowed in Deanna’s direction, as she pulled a chair from a nearby table and set it down next to Deanna’s. “Deal for us, would you Upshaw?”

“Sure thing, sheriff,” Marty grins, collecting the cards and shuffling them deftly. “How’s my brother holding up?”

The sheriff gestures to Miss Annie to bring her a drink, answering, “He’s a lousy shot for a deputy-in-training, but I’ll whip him into shape somehow.”

“Uhuh, that’s what pa used to say,” the dealer chuckles, flicking out cards to the men at the table. “The game is Texas Hold ‘Em, but y’all knew that. Each of ya gets two cards, and five are placed on the deck. Bettin’ starts when y’all want it to.”

Miss Annie comes by as Marty deals, a tumbler of whiskey in hand and a smile on her lips. “It’s good to see you, sheriff,” she says dreamily, interrupting the quiet air of the poker game.

“It’s always good to see you, Miss Annie,” Sheriff Howard replies with a grin, leaning back in her chair. Deanna almost thinks she’s flirting with the bar owner, but she can sense the sheriff is only doing it to agitate her. She won’t get the pleasure of seeing Deanna squirm.

“I didn’t know you could be so chatty, sheriff,” grunts Llyod “Brawn” Murray.

Deanna watches the sheriff as she accepts the tumbler from Miss Annie, sipping it. “Well I’m a downright peach when you’re not behind the bars of my hoosegow, Murray,” she retorts lowly, placing her glass on the table and picking up her cards. Deanna has to admit, Sheriff Howard is _very_ attractive when she talks like that. Deanna almost wants to break character, but she smooths her expression and looks at her cards. A queen and a seven.

“Y’all ready?” Marty asks the table, and both Deanna and the sheriff hum their affirmation along with the rest of the players. He deals out three cards onto the table: an eight, a four, and a seven. Deanna doesn’t react outwardly, but she does have to work to withhold a smirk.

“Two dollars,” says Llyod, slapping down a dollar.

“Two,” Deanna repeats, sliding one of her own dollars into the center. The other men repeat the same, entering their money. The sheriff purses her lips.

“Five dollars,” the woman announces, producing a five from her pocket.

“Feeling lucky, sheriff?” Asks Deanna, leaning her chin on her hand. The sheriff raises an eyebrow as everyone throws in an extra three dollars. Deanna smirks, doing the same. “Y’know, you’re pretty when you’re confident.” Ther sheriff eyes her. Deanna feels frisky. “Then again, you’re always pretty.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Durango, so I’d suggest you shut your trap,” replies the sheriff hotly, pinching her fingers together and moving them past her lips, mimicking a zipper.

“No need for hostilities sheriff, I was only complimenting you,” Deanna says innocently, batting her eyelashes as she invades the woman’s personal space.

“I’m about to deal again ladies if you’d like to rejoin our game,” Marty pipes up, lighting a cigarette between his lips.

“Please, Marty,” Deanna grins. “Be our guest.” Marty bows slightly, before placing down two more cards onto the table: a king and a queen. It seems the fates are with her again, and Deanna can’t stop herself from rising, “Eight dollars.” Everyone looks at her, eyes wide and suspicious. Deanna is aware she’s known to be an excellent bluffer, but there’s no need this round. She puts her cards down and tucks her hands behind her head as everyone chips in eight dollars. Sheriff Howard pauses again.

“Nine dollars,” she says, pulling out more cash.

“Bluffing, sheriff?” Asks Creed Jones.

“Fold or match me, and you’ll find out,” the sheriff returns, downing her whiskey and leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed.

  
Deanna grins. “This I have to see,” she says. “I’ll match you.” Creed and his buddy Dynamite Tate fold, throwing their cards down and sipping their beers in annoyance. They don’t usually win, and Deanna can’t help but feel bad.

“Nine dollars, sheriff,” Lloyd announces. He flips over his hand, revealing a king and a four. “A pair of kings, pair of fours.”

Deanna tosses her hand down angrily. “Damn,” she cusses, furrowing her brow.

Lloyd reaches to collect the cash but stops as Sheriff Howard begins to tsk. She raises her head up, smirking. “I never suspected you for a god awful cheat, Murray,” she utters, leaning forward on her elbows.

“I ain’t no cheat, sheriff. I’ll ask you kindly not to slander me,” spits Lloyd, anger in his eyes.

The sheriff shakes her head. “God knows everybody cheats, Lloyd, but those of us who do usually remember to not get caught. And well… that king in your hand looks mighty similar to the one that was dealt,” she declares, and Deanna’s eyes dart to the king dealt by Marty. Both of them are the king of diamonds! The sheriff finally flips her cards over, revealing an eight and a king. The king of spades. “Besides, you lost anyway.”

“You son of a bitch!” Hisses Lloyd, taking his empty beer bottle and smashing it on the edge of the table. Deanna watches as Sheriff Howard reaches for her gun, but her draw isn’t quick enough. With faster fingers, Deanna draws her pistol and shoots the glass in Lloyd’s grasp, shattering the bottle. The sheriff jerks, hand still on her holster, and her eyes meet Deanna’s. She winks, causing the sheriff to roll her eyes again.

“You damn cheat!” Creed Jones shouts, grabbing Lloyd by his shirt and socking him across the jaw. The man goes stumbling backward, wiping his mouth before charging at Creed. The men begin to brawl, grabbing bottles and chairs and attacking one another. Dynamite retrains Lloyd for a brief moment before the man breaks free. He sets his sights on Sheriff Howard, swinging a clumsy fist at her. The sheriff dodges easily, but the sight alone enrages Deanna. She moves swiftly, pushing him back and punching him twice, once in his stomach and once more across his face. He drops to the ground with a pathetic thud. Dynamite suddenly attempts a jab at her, but she ducks, watching as the sheriff moves in and uppercuts him. He falls back, blood gushing from his nose. Creed huffs, looking ready to have his go with her when a gunshot rings out from behind Deanna. All three men scramble off, running out of the saloon in fear. Deanna turns to see Sheriff Howard with her revolver in the air, her eyes narrow. She blows the smoke off the tip and tucks it back into her holster, cracking her fingers.

“Oh, I hate it when you ruffians fight in my bar!” Miss Annie exclaims, cupping her cheeks in anguish.

“Apologizes, Miss Annie. I’ll pay for the reparations,” says Sheriff Howard sweetly. Her gaze turns to Deanna. “Thank you. For what you did.”

Deanna shrugs. “Don’t mention it, sheriff,” she says, tucking her hands in her pockets as she walks slowly toward the exit of the saloon.

Sheriff Howard follows her outside. “You still leaving town?”

Deanna glances at her, squinting from the bright sun. “Why?” She asks.

The sheriff scratches the back of her head. “Well, I uh…” She trails off, glancing around. “I was wondering if there was anything I could offer you to get you to stay. And be my deputy.”

“You want me to be your deputy?” Deanna questions, laughing incredulously.

“You’re a better shot than Upshaw’s brother,” the sheriff chuckles, glancing down. “And besides, we make a good team, Deanna.”

“Computer, freeze program!”

Beverly fixes her posture, looking at Deanna. “What? What’s the matter?” She asks.

“You broke character, Beverly,” Deanna informs her, crossing her arms.

“Huh? No, I didn’t,” the doctor counters, crossing her arms in return.

“You called me Deanna.”

“Your name is Deanna.”

“Not in this program. In here, you’re supposed to call me “Durango,” Beverly,” Deanna quips, tsking.

“Well, excuse me,” Beverly huffs. “We make a good team, _Durango.”_

“Beverly, the program is frozen.”

She watches Beverly roll her eyes and groan exasperatedly, wrapping her arms around Deanna’s waist. The empath relaxes in her arms, sighing. “You’re so touchy when it comes to your Wild West programs,” she murmurs, grinning as Deanna wraps her arms around the doctor’s neck.

“I’m aware,” she replies, glancing around the frozen program. “They’re just my favorite.”

Beverly smiles. “I know.” She leans down, tilting Deanna’s head back with her finger and connecting their lips for a kiss. Deanna hums happily, cupping her lover’s cheeks with both hands sinking into her embrace. When Beverly parts her lips, Deanna suddenly pushes her away, crossing her arms.

“You’re not supposed to kiss now!” She exclaims. “We’re supposed to kiss when I tell you I won’t be your deputy and that I have to go, and you kissing me is how you convince me to stay!”

Beverly smiles fondly at her, shaking her head, her eyes warm and soft as she murmurs, “Deanna…”

“What?” Deanna questions.

Beverly leans forward, connecting their lips for the second time in as many minutes. Deanna responds eagerly, clutching Beverly’s shirt in her hands. The doctor guides her backward until she’s against the outside wall of the saloon, her cowboy hat just about falling off her head. Beverly breaks their kiss, panting and resting her forehead against Deanna’s. “Is that convincing enough for you to come back with me to my quarters?” Deanna grins.

“Computer, end program!”

**Author's Note:**

> leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed and find me on tumblr @ stonktrek


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